


Good Hair Day

by Swordy



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Brotherhood: Final Fantasy XV, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, More Fluff, pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24530695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swordy/pseuds/Swordy
Summary: As teenagers Gladio helps Ignis experiment with a new style. Unfortunately Ignis's hair is not cooperative.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 24
Kudos: 73





	Good Hair Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to a head canon about Gladio helping Ignis create his distinctive hair style. Thank you, Gladio's Mullet and SilentScream for inspiring me!

“Like this?”

Gladio doesn’t reply, but the smile and the small, amused huff he gives are answer enough. Ignis rolls his eyes and dumps the pot of hair wax back onto the counter top. They must have used half the contents already with nothing to show for it. Nothing good, at any rate. 

“This is hopeless.”

Like he doesn’t feel awkward enough. There’s only a year separating them in age, but already Gladio is towering above his peers, with a broad chest and huge, powerful arms, plus confidence to match. Ignis, on the other hand, is yet to experience any kind of serious growth spurt, but in its place has been gifted with a smattering of acne, a propensity for sweating more and a natural inclination to appear awkward. Being around Gladio doesn’t help _at all_ since he’s prone to blushing, which makes his acne look worse and close proximity definitely encourages him to perspire. Like now, as Gladio reaches up to touch the back of his head. What in Bahamut's _name_ possessed him to agree to this?

“You’ve got a different hair texture to me is all,” Gladio says.

Ignis turns from their reflections to look at Gladio directly, one eyebrow arched to convey his incredulity. At least that’s a look he can pull off.

“By that logic, the issue isn’t that you and I have different hair textures, but that the front of my head has a _different texture to the back_.”

Gladio unsuccessfully stifles a laugh, not that he's really trying very hard in the first place. Heat floods Ignis's cheeks and he looks away, busying himself with putting the lid back onto the pot of wax. Will there ever be a time he stops looking silly in front of Gladio? No wonder Gladio doesn’t look at him the way Ignis wishes he would. Ignis is a boy, and Gladio's well on his way to becoming a man.

“Hey,” Gladio says softly. “I actually think it kinda suits you.”

“Hardly,” he scoffs.

“No, look,” Gladio persists, coming to stand directly behind Ignis in the mirror, his chest bumping against Ignis's shoulder blades and sending a warm, tingly sensation down his back, which quadruples in intensity when Gladio's hands come to rest on his shoulders. His hold is gentle, but there’s a firmness to it, designed to stop Ignis from squirming away from his own reflection. He does as he’s told, simply for the distraction from thinking about Gladio's hands and where he’d really like them to be.

The liberal application of hair wax has smoothed the sides and tamed the back so that it now only flicks out slightly at the nape of his neck. Gladio's suggestion to apply product—with the idea of achieving some tousled volume on top—has resulted in the front standing up in gravity-defying spikes whilst the back has resisted all efforts to get it to join in. It’s a somewhat severe look and as an attempt to get him to appear more relaxed and less prim and buttoned-up it’s been a resounding disaster.

“I look like a chocobo's rear end,” Ignis says flatly. He reaches up to try and arrange the front into something less shocking, but Gladio bats his hand away.

“Leave it.”

“Why?”

“I think you look...” Gladio hesitates, a lopsided smile on his face as he presumably tries to come up with a diplomatic end to that sentence.

“Silly?”

“No—”

“Taller?”

Gladio gives him a brief glare of exasperation before his expression softens again.

“I was gonna say 'cute'.”

Oh. Ignis blinks owlishly at Gladio's reflection. Suddenly Gladio doesn’t seem quite so tall or so confident. It's probably just the lighting in this bathroom but it almost looks as if he’s blushing. But hold on. Cute could mean a variety of things so he absolutely shouldn’t read anything into that. Gladio's obviously just trying to be kind since he and his uncooperative hair have made fools of themselves again.

“Cute? Like, ten year old boy, cute?”

An eye roll. “Jeez, Iggy, you're all about makin' this difficult, ain’t you?” Gladio drags a hand down the beard he’s starting to cultivate. He shakes his head and Ignis realises then that the hint of colour in his cheeks definitely isn’t a trick of the light. Eventually Gladio throws up his hands.

“How about 'hot' then?”

 _Hot_? Surely there's no misinterpreting that. Unfortunately any hotness he might have achieved with his new style is negated by the look on his face, because a quick glance in the mirror confirms that he’s full-on gaping. And bright red. Still, at least it gives them something in common.

“H-hey, look,” Gladio stammers into the resulting silence. “I don’t wanna make stuff weird between us, Iggy, I just—”

“You've not,” Ignis rushes to assure him. “I'm just surprised.”

“Pleasantly surprised?” Gladio ventures, and the hopeful rise of his eyebrows is enough to give Ignis butterflies. He meets Gladio's gaze in the mirror and nods.

“You could say that.”

Gladio sags back against the wall and lets out a shaky laugh. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, but he doesn’t break eye contact either. Ignis swallows. The bathroom suddenly feels too small and too hot. How long he's dreamed of this happening—admittedly not in this setting, but still.

“So, um,” Gladio says, pulling Ignis from his thoughts. “Would it be okay if I kissed you now?”

Unconsciously Ignis reaches for the chain around his neck. The small silver skull pendant is warm to the touch. Despite his pounding heart, he answers Gladio's question with a nod and a shy smile. His thoughts are going a million miles per hour. _My first kiss. Gladio is going to give me my first kiss_.

Gladio pushes himself away from the wall as Ignis turns to meet him. Before he knows it, there are only millimetres separating them. At the last minute Ignis remembers to close his eyes, quickly followed by a split-second panic when nothing happens. He's about to open them again— _oh, gods, maybe Gladio was just joking_ —when there's a pressure against his lips, so light he wonders if he’s imagining it. But no, Gladio is definitely kissing him because he can taste the cola he was drinking on the walk up here.

And his lips are _so soft_. The butterflies intensify. He feels giddy with happiness.

They eventually pull apart, both flushed, both smiling.

“That was my first kiss,” Ignis admits.

“Yeah?” Gladio says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Me too.”

“ _What_?” It's out of his mouth before he can stop it. “You’ve never...?”

Gladio shrugs. “Just waiting for the right person, I guess.”

He stares, unable to believe Gladio could be talking about him. He looks away and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His eyes are shining behind his glasses, his cheeks are flushed... and his hair looks crazy. He catches Gladio's frown as he reaches up to try and flatten it.

“Hey, what are you doin’?”

Ignis offers his reflection a smile. “You were just being polite, weren’t you? You don’t actually think it suits me.”

“Are you kiddin'?” Gladio blinks. “I think it looks awesome. In fact, you can wear it like that on Saturday.”

“Saturday?”

“Yeah. I figured maybe we could go out somewhere? Food, a movie, whatever you want. Unless of course you’re busy?”

Ignis looks back at his own reflection. He reaches up again, but this time his hand traces the length of the spikes to their conclusion. On second thoughts, it doesn’t look _too_ bad.

“Saturday... sounds wonderful.”

**End**


End file.
